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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24758515">hair raising issues</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotPersephone/pseuds/NotPersephone'>NotPersephone</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hannibal (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Hair Kink, hair cutting, we need at least one quarantine related story</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 06:14:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,688</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24758515</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotPersephone/pseuds/NotPersephone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal's hair grows longer. Bedelia is not thrilled with his new look. The solution could benefit them both.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bedelia Du Maurier/Hannibal Lecter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>hair raising issues</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This story was inspired by an anon ask enquiring about whether Hannibal would keep his hair long during quarantine or let Bedelia cut it for him. A bit of fun we all need!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nothing can surprise her anymore. She has seen all of Hannibal’s peculiarities over the years. Or at least that is what she has thought until now.</p>
<p>Standing in front of the bed and fastening the side zipper of her dress, Bedelia observes Hannibal as he finishes his morning grooming ritual in the bathroom, one that expanded over the course of the last few weeks. Smiling at his own reflection, he takes a bottle of hair gel and spreads few drops in between his fingers before running them through his hair, pulling the strands away from his face. He smooths the front only, leaving the back locks untouched. The locks that have been growing more and more with each passing day. Hannibal turns his head aside, appraising his appearance, seemingly pleased to find the hair longer still, the locks curling up playfully at the end.</p>
<p>Bedelia’s lips curl up as well, but there is no amusement in her expression. This is the last thing she has expected; she thought the restrains on his usual amenities would cause him more distress. While she knew, he would secure the constant availability of the highest quality of food produce and even his tailor in Milan ensured continuity of service, there was no possibility to package and deliver a hairdressing service. But, to her surprise, Hannibal embraced the situation quite swiftly, even more so, appeared to be delighting in his new look.</p>
<p>Now, he leaves the bathroom, seeing her standing by their bed, and comes closer to place yet another good morning kiss on her lips. Her hands rest on his chest as she returns the kiss, noticing an extra button undone on his shirt as if to correspond with his fresh, bohemian-like hairstyle. If his old acquaintances from Baltimore could see him now. She could have hardly imagined him sporting anything but a perfectly cut suit and perfectly cut hair back then. But the removal of his person suit loosened the strict stitches of his physical presence as well. She has seen it manifest in some questionable pattern and colour selections, yet this is something new altogether. Bedelia stifles a frown; as much as she prefers his hair on a slightly longer side, enjoying stroking and even grasping them in the most pleasurable of moments, this is considerably too long for her taste. At times, she would tease him about his obsession with her locks, but it appears she too has strong preferences of her own.</p>
<p>How ironic.</p>
<p>“Breakfast?” he asks, still holding her in his embrace.</p>
<p>“Yes, please,” she responds, letting her hands move up to stroke his neck, but they tangle in his hair instead.</p>
<p>
  <em>Definitely too long.</em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Her fork stirs the fruit without much purpose, the strawberries leaving red trails to mark the cautious nature of her deliberation. She watches him closely, enjoying his coffee, trying to find the most delicate way to phrase her concerns. Hannibal’s head shifts aside as reaches for the plate of pastries, making his hair fall over his cheek. He brushes it away without much thought. Bedelia’s brow furrows.</p>
<p>“Your hair is getting long,” she starts off slowly, still moving the fruit from one side of the plate to another.</p>
<p>“It is,” Hannibal agrees with a smile of his face.</p>
<p>The brow creases further, now with worry; she does not wish to burst his bubble of enjoyment, no matter how strange it seems to her.</p>
<p> “Perhaps a bit too long,” she carries on with gentle caution, eyes narrowing ever so slightly as she awaits his reaction.</p>
<p>“I do not think so,” he responds in the same cheerful manner, somehow oblivious to the real meaning behind her words.</p>
<p>It may be that the care-free flow of his hair has also managed to influence the workings of his mind. Bedelia tilts her head, the curling locks mocking her in their cheerful appearance and making her feel guiltier for pressing the subject on.</p>
<p>“Is it not more comfortable to keep it shorter?” she pauses, giving him time to object but none comes. “I could cut it for you,” she offers then, her tone casual despite the urgency in her stare.</p>
<p>Hannibal sits up straighter as if only now comprehending the real purpose of the conversation.</p>
<p>“I would like that,” he responds at once, his eyes now beaming with a different kind of excitement.</p>
<p>“Are you certain?” she asks, putting a subtle pressure on each word. The shift in his demeanour is so instant, she is unsure if he grasped her proposal in all its consequences.</p>
<p>“Yes,” his smile brightens visibly at the prospect.</p>
<p>Bedelia smirks in amusement; if she knew he would forgone his newfound enjoyment of the eccentric look in favour of her personal care, she would have suggested it earlier.</p>
<p>“Are you not going to inquire about my grooming skills?” she carries on further, but with a lighter note in her voice, the subject no longer weighting on her mind, but turning into a playful game.</p>
<p>“I do not need to,” he reassures her at once, “You are brilliant at whatever you set your mind to.”</p>
<p>The fork on the plates stops to a point; the complement is overly favourable even by his standards. But a timid smile appears on her lips nonetheless; his constant adoration never fails to infuse her with elation.</p>
<p>“All right, that is settled then,” she places the fork aside, marking the end of the discussion.</p>
<p>“I am looking forward to it,” Hannibal beams still, putting his cup down, once again brushing his soon to be gone locks away from his cheek, jovial in the blissful ignorance of their incoming fate.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As entertaining as the morning exchange has been, the subject remains untouched for the next day. She expects Hannibal to have forgotten about her offer, or more likely, have rethought it once he took in its full consequence.  She does not bring the subject anew, feeling the same pang of original guilt nagging at her mind when she begins to consider it.</p>
<p>It is not that important, Bedelia tells herself. She will grow to like it.</p>
<p>Eventually.</p>
<p>And she does not think much of it when a new package arrives in two days. She suspects it to be yet another one of Hannibal’s urgent stock replenishment; his pecorino supply has been dwindling at an alarming rate.  But it is not. To her surprise, she finds a brand-new pair of hairdressing scissors and a comb, placed on a towel, waiting for her on top of their bed.</p>
<p>“Shall we?” Hannibal asks with excitement as he emerges suddenly from the bathroom, his hair already washed, a towel spread across his shoulders.</p>
<p>He steps aside to reveal a grooming station at ready, a chair from the bedroom places in the middle of the bathroom floor, right in front of a large mirror. Bedelia is amazed that he decided to follow through on his promise after all but strangely exhilarated with the notion herself.</p>
<p>Hannibal walks back inside and sits on the chair, adjusting the placement of the towel on his shoulders. Despite the gnawing reservations, Bedelia follows him at once. She stands behind the chair, placing the towel and the grooming tools on the counter. She takes the pair of scissors in her hand, watching the silver shine with its untouched polish. The point is sharp enough to draw blood but the only danger they pose at present is to Hannibal’s carefully cultivated locks. She looks up, taking in his cheerful reflection, eyes brilliant with thrill. She sees her own concerned expression, stern face framed by her usual long flowing tresses, reaching pass her shoulders. The only change in the appearance she had to get accustomed to is the few additional grey strands settling in her hair over the last weeks. But she knows Hannibal adores them. The frown deepens; Bedelia exhales slowly and observes as her muscles relax and the crease vanishes.</p>
<p>“Are you sure?” she asks, meeting his gaze in the mirror, the scissors awaiting eagerly in her raised hand.</p>
<p>“Yes,” the smile does not leave his face as he watches her standing behind her, the light in his eyes flashing brightly. His head tips back and he leans it against her body.</p>
<p>“Hannibal,” she tries to sound firm but the head nesting itself between her breasts makes it hard to remain serious.</p>
<p>“I am certain,” he reassures her anew, noticing the steel flash passing through her eyes, “Like you said, it is a tad too long,” his head moves, even if reluctantly, from its resting spot, as he sits up straight, giving his hair a critical look and rearranging the placement of the towel that has fallen off his shoulder.</p>
<p>A tiny twitch wrinkles the corner of her lips; she cannot help but think that in the thrill of having her attend to his care, Hannibal might have not taken the end result into consideration. She does not wish to be the cause of his discomfort. He always strives to make her as contended as possible; she should allow him the same. Yet she cannot deny she is enjoying the situation, having him sit so obediently, awaiting her ministrations.</p>
<p>The metal flashes once as she opens the scissors and gives Hannibal’s reflection one last glance of warning. He remains unmoved in his delighted expectancy. Bedelia presses her lips while her other hand slowly reaches for his hair, two fingers gliding and grasping the strands at even length.  Hannibal murmurs in appreciation of what surely feels like a light caress. Bedelia is still not convinced that he had deliberated over what will come next. The sharp glades slide through with ease and she watches as the first lock falls to rest on the towel on his shoulders. She pauses, expecting a last-minute change of mine, but no protest comes. The fingers follow on then, moving alongside his neck, each grasp being met with a vibrating hum from Hannibal. The scissors tread on the heels of the fingers, removing curl by curl and abandoning them to drop lifeless on the floor. Her previous concerns pushed from her mind, Bedelia now gathers all her concentration to ensure the hair line is even, finding her medical training useful in the most unexpected of ways. She might have not practised surgery, but she had always prided herself on having perfect stitching skills. It seems the same dexterity can be employed to hair cutting.</p>
<p>Soon the last low hanging lock falls to its doom, making Hannibal’s neck resurface to view, all ready to be grazed at her leisure.  A tiny smile pulls at her lips as she takes the towel and removes any lingering strands from his skin, appraising the progress. A decent handiwork if she can say so herself. She takes the comb in her hand and her attention moves up, set to trim the span of hair around the back of his head. Combing through the length to straighten them, nimble fingers then proceed briskly, becoming more at ease with the task, scissors flashing and Hannibal humming ever so often, but remaining silent otherwise. From time to time, Bedelia looks in the mirror and sees the same cheerful face, smiling back at her in wordless joy; clearly the experience is everything he has imagined it to be.</p>
<p>Once she is satisfied with the overall aspect of the back, she steps around to stand in front of Hannibal, preparing for the next part of work at hand. He looks up at her once, reverence shining thought his stare. She can see his hands restless on his lap, undoubtedly wanting nothing more than to reach out and pull her closer, yet he keeps his composure. With an amused half smile, Bedelia holds out her own hand and grazes his cheek; he promptly leans into her touch. She can feel his excitement, an almost physical sensation, resonating through his skin. It is enticing, making her own skin tingle pleasantly.</p>
<p>Reminding herself of the task unfinished, she grips the scissors tighter and her other hand abandons his check. His mouth twitches once as if suppressing his eagerness or his desire to lean forward and kiss her. Bedelia strives to ignore his expression, once again focusing solely on the undertaking. Fingers and scissors progress from side to side while keen eyes compare each successive crop, making sure they are equal in length. Finally, she sets her gaze on the front of his hair, the most crucial aspect of the cut.</p>
<p>She has always enjoyed his hair falling softly on the side of his forehead, but she is unsure if she can recreate the impression. Still, she has gotten this far, and she will not stop now. Hannibal’s smile widens as the comb in her hand brushes the strands down and she leans forward for better accuracy. She almost holds her breath as the scissors move above his face, fingers holding the strands with utmost delicacy. Hannibal’s own breathing reverberates warmly in her ears. A grin marks her lips as Hannibal crinkles his nose when a wandering strand of hair lands on its tip. She pauses, removing the nuisance with a brush of her finger; his hum turns into a muffled whimper.</p>
<p>The hand slows down as the blade reaches the end of the hair line with careful finishing snips. As the last long wisp is removed, Bedelia gives Hannibal’s hair her final assessment.</p>
<p>“All done,” she pronounces while placing the scissors and comb aside and taking a step back, her concerns returning now that the task is completed.</p>
<p>Hannibal slips the towel off his shoulder, wiping any invisible hair that might have sneaked pass the barrier, then gives his reflection a throughout stare.</p>
<p>“Do you like it?” she asks tentatively as he appraises his fresh look in the mirror.</p>
<p>“I do,” he looks back at her with relish.</p>
<p>Bedelia tilts her head to assess the evenness of the cut one last time, ensuring no stray lock escaped her sharp eyes and equally sharp scissors. Hannibal beams as he witnesses yet another facet of her care.</p>
<p>“Do <em>you</em> like it?” he turns in the chair to look straight at her.</p>
<p>Bedelia’s eyes narrow, the question is as prompt as it is unexpected.</p>
<p>“Does it matter if I do?” she retorts, her tone sharper than needed, her motives hovering too close to the surface.</p>
<p>“Of course, it does,” the smile on his lips coils with playfulness, clearly enjoying her fluster, “I want you to like what you see,” he carries on coquettishly, his hand reaching out as if to adjust the hair, an unnecessary gesture meant for nothing more than drawing her attention. And succeeding.</p>
<p>Bedelia’s fingers long to sweep though his strands anew, and even more so, test the shorter length in a more decisive manner. Her instinct taking over so easily makes her skin flush.</p>
<p>“That is the only thing that matters,” he continues, now taking her hand and grazing her palm in admiration.</p>
<p>The next realisation makes her cheeks burn fiercer. She has misunderstood his intentions after all. Or rather, he has anticipated hers perfectly. Despite her lips tensing with unease at the sudden exposure of her needs, she allows her hand to dive in between his hair with nothing but her gratification in mind this time. Hannibal sighs contentedly.</p>
<p>“It is only fair,” he says, eyes flickering as his fingers reach out to caress the curls of her hair.</p>
<p>Bedelia smiles as she continues to stroke his hair, savouring the result of her efforts.</p>
<p>“Shorter hair is easier to manage. Perhaps I should consider giving my own hair a trim,” she says, head tilting as though in serious deliberation but eyes narrowing devilishly.</p>
<p>As expected, Hannibal’s eyes dim with immediate despair at the mere suggestion. Bedelia chuckles and he frowns with pretended hurt. It is not a matter that should be taken so lightly, as far as he is concerned.</p>
<p>Taking a step closer, Bedelia perches on Hannibal’s thigh, making the light in his face ignite with a start. The fingers entwined in his hair give a probing tug. Hannibal growls in approval.</p>
<p>It is only fair.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading! Comments are love, please consider leaving one if you enjoyed it. Stay safe everyone ♥</p></blockquote></div></div>
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